


Stowaways

by Hopeless_Hogwartian394



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gen, I loved the trash aliens and I wanted more so here we are, I tried for funny but idk if I managed it, Inspired by Fanart, allura and coran are really fucking hard to write, might write more might not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 21:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10705539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopeless_Hogwartian394/pseuds/Hopeless_Hogwartian394
Summary: Something isn't quite right on the castle ship.orPidge isnt the only being to have left that trash nebulaorThe team has no idea that some of those trash aliens stowed away on Green when Pidge was rescued. Pidge does. She doesn't tell them





	Stowaways

**Author's Note:**

> So the original idea came from [this](http://ikimaru.tumblr.com/post/158690502660/wasnt-there-a-thing-about-pidge-being-a-hoarder) comic by [ikimaru](http://ikimaru.tumblr.com) over on tumblr, and I couldn't resist

It takes three weeks after the wormhole incident for Lance to notice them. He catches a glimpse of colour, of yellow fuzz that contrasts sharply with the castle’s colour scheme.

 

A moment of disbelief, then he's chasing after it. He doesn't catch up to whatever it is, loses track of that glimpse of yellow three corners after he first spots it. He does however, spend the rest of that day squinting suspiciously at anything yellowish, just in case.

 

He thinks Hunk might have gotten a bit startled by the face Lance made at his shirt, but he’ll apologise to his buddy in the morning. 

* * *

Pidge is asleep on her laptop. This is normal, a consequence of her propensity to work at odd hours and with a single minded intensity that keeps her from sleep.

 

What is not normal, however, is the levitating blanket that is currently motoring its way towards the unconscious Pidge, whirring gently as it moves towards her.

 

Hunk stares. 

 

The blanket stops over Pidge, hovers for a moment, and then drops to drape over her shoulders. There is a moment while it settles, and then nothing. He waits for a moment to see if anything else happens, but the only movement comes from Pidge herself, the rise and fall of her shoulders. With a sigh, he lifts her up gently, blanket and all, and carries her to her actual bed. 

 

The last thing he hears before her door closes behind him is the whirring noise start up again behind him.

* * *

The castle has a library. It’s an electronic library, but a library nevertheless. Keith didn’t leave the desert with much, but a new penchant for reading is one of them. 

 

An easy way to fill long stretches of empty time, he actually rather enjoys it, and it turns out to be a rather excellent way to not be bothered for not being busy (Allura doesn’t seem to have noticed that his reading material isn't always serious, and he’s pretty sure Pidge is the only one to have cottoned on to what he’s doing).

 

He is tucked away in a chair he found in a room some way from the main areas when he is interrupted. A whirr breaks his focus. He glances up at the propped open door, but sees nothing.

 

Knife in hand, he peers round the door, and sees nothing, hears nothing. 

 

He stays unsettled, on edge, for the rest of the day, and never sees anything unusual.

* * *

Allura spends much of her time watching the paladins. At first, it is for the sake of Voltron, to learn how these humans behave. But her quiet observance has become mostly a chance to see their individual quirks and habits. It’s fascinating.

 

Pidge, even now an intensely private person, has been avoiding her of late. Not intentionally, Allura hopes.

 

Her curiosity piqued, she attempts investigation. The most she or the mice can discern is that Pidge is wrapped up in some sort of project that involves bright colours and an inordinate amount of whirring noises. 

 

Satisfied that Pidge’s absence is not intentional, and that she will share her project with them in time, Allura goes looking for Keith to see if he is reading something. His face makes the most fascinating contortions and expressions whenever he does, it’s incredible and amusingly entertaining.

* * *

Shiro hasn’t seen Pidge in a while. 

 

Also his arm is missing.

 

Not all of it, but from the wrist down it’s completely gone, the stump trailing wires. Patches of plating are also missing, and the most baffling thing about the entire situation is how anyone or anything got close enough to fiddle with his arm and not wake him.

 

He has no memory of waking up at all last night, although he seems to recall that the castle noises were louder last night. Not even Pidge is that sneaky.

 

He goes looking for her anyway, and finds her in the space she has claimed as her own, muttering grumpily at a smoking tangle of wires.

 

“Pidge.”

 

A glare is the only response he gets, but he has her attention now.

 

“Pidge, I don’t care how you got it or how much you need it, but I would like my hand back.”

 

Her face wriggles confusedly. “What?” He raises his prosthetic into her field of view, and she rears back slightly. “What happened?”

 

Now the both of them are confused. “You didn’t take it?” he asks. At her confused head shake, his eyes wander around the space and he notices it. “Then what is it doing over there?”

 

Pidge follows his gaze and then groans. “Not again. Sorry Shiro,” she grumbles before mutteringly retrieving his hand and assorted plating form across the room. Shiro thinks he hears something about ‘fucking fluffs’ and ‘to clever for their own good’ and he isn't sure what she’s complaining about, but he has the use of ten fingers again, so he’ll take it and save the questions for later.

* * *

Pidge has acquired a long brown coat from somewhere. She wears it around the castle sometimes, claiming she gets cold.

 

Coran is fairly sure that it shouldn’t be wriggling like that. 

 

So he investigates. He may not be the greatest investigator, that honour belongs to a long dead legend, but he is rather good all the same. 

 

Some quintants later, the coat is still wriggling and he is now absolutely  _certain_ it shouldn't be.

 

He goes looking. Observation is the key to great discovery, his great uncle's cousin is, _was_  fond of saying, and so Coran _observes_.

 

He passes her moving at speed in the hall, long coat clutched together with one hand. She makes it past him when he thinks he spies a bright fluff of colour poking out over the coat's collar, and stops.

 

A pause, then he turns for a closer look. The ball of blue he though he saw is absent, but the coat is wriggling more than it was a few moments ago and now Pidge has also stopped moving, patting herself down nervously. The movement doesn't stop and he narrows his eyes as something peeks out from underneath and its orange and fluffy and has eyes and tiny feet and o _h quiznak._

 

_There is more then one._

 

Small balls of fluff are escaping from under Pidge’s coat and soon there is a swarm surrounding their heads.

 

_Flying yelmores on a quiznak_ he and Pidge will be having words.

 


End file.
